


My Bird

by epicleviathan



Category: Whiplash (2014)
Genre: Jazz - Freeform, M/M, Music, Whiplash, movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 05:11:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3434783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epicleviathan/pseuds/epicleviathan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neiman and Fletcher meet after the JVC show. It's time to settle things and reveal some secrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Bird

And the show was a success, Fletcher couldn’t be happier, even though Neiman’s outburst still had surprised him – Both in a good and bad manner – and the other songs went down smoothly, finishing off with Whiplash, of course. In the end of the evening, the drums were completely soaked in blood and sweat, truly the marks of a true genius, that wouldn’t give up his dream just because of someone else. The critics would write a very good review on that presentation, praising the band and specially Andrew for the incredible and unique show.

The young drummer said goodbye to his father, that left him with a promise that he would never subestimate his abilities again, but Neiman shrugged it off, maybe it was time to live for himself, not caring about being attached to people, all he needed was himself and his drum.

Tired and dirty, he leaned against the theatre’s walls, as the rest of the musicians prepared themselves to leave the place, some of them praising him, others calling him batshit insane. Taking deep breaths and cleaning the sweat from his forehead with the sleeves of his suit, he was waiting a bit longer to leave, he needed to hear what Fletched had to say before going home.

When the man finally came by, he had a frown, like he was usually used to, walking slowly towards him. “So you finally made it, kid. You prove that you are worthy, even though I still find you a backstabbing piece of shit.” Terrence snorted, keeping his eyes fixed at the other. “I guess I did huh?” Neiman replied, rolling his drumsticks on his fingers, and then awkward silence came by.

They kept a couple of seconds looking at each other, and then the older one finally began. “You might be ‘Bird’ Now, but that doesn’t mean that I am cool with you ruining my fucking band with your sudden willing to call the attention. You should be really grateful that you didn’t screw it up, otherwise I swear I would be fucking killing you right now, you motherfucker.”

Andrew kept looking at him. “Why does it hurt so much to admit that I was good? You set me up – and I don’t blame you for that- but instead of running and bitching, I sat back down there and gave you the best drum solo of your life.” He wasn’t afraid of him anymore, that wasn’t Studio Band, and the younger knew he was good.

“You like to talk back to me when you are afraid and upset.. What are you feeling now? Are you feeling like the fucking king of the world? Yes, you were good, and you are good, I am glad to see you finally doing something that it’s worth listening, since I met you. But yet..” He slapped his cheek harshly. “That didn’t give you the right to sabotage my band like that.” Neiman smirked. “You like to be abusive don’t you? Now I am in your fucking tempo, you bastard.”

Fletcher raised a brow. “And yet, you are here, gently accepting this slap like the fucking bitch you are.” The maestro crossed his arms. “Don’t tell me.. You were expecting my approval, all this time? You wanted to be noticed by me so bad? Do you have a fucking crush on me or something?”

Neiman gasped, losing his cool right there. He avoided the other’s glance, which looked like a hawk, and he was nothing more than a mouse. Fletcher knew his trigger, slapping him again. “Answer me!” He shouted, echoing through the empty room. “I.. don—“ And another slap came, turning his cheeks into a pink shade. “Stop mumbling, you are not a girl.” Neiman looked down. “I don’t know. I always wanted you to realize that I could be good and now I got that.”  Terrence held his face harshly, making the other face him. “Look at me, you little shit.” And the drummer opened his eyes, looking at him with unsure eyes. “You got that, and now what? Do you want to carry on playing in my band?” Neiman nodded in silence. “So be honest with me, do you have a fucking crush on me? Seriously? Don’t you think I am too old for you?”

Neiman wasn’t the type to get all girls and honestly want to spend his life with someone else, they would be a bore, they would get on his way, his path to stardom.  But Fletcher was different, he could help him, he wouldn’t be on his way, actually quite the opposite, the older one wanted Andrew to go farther and farther on his career. But he was a male after all and that made the drummer quite confused, since he never had such experiences before.

“Ahn..” He mumbled, and another slap was the answer. “You drag even to speak, for fuck’s sake. We are even for you expelling me out from the conservatory and me setting you up, alright. No need to back off now.”

“I do.”

And silence game again, Andrew’s face hurt from so many slaps, but he kept there, on Fletcher’s grip. Even the maestro wasn’t unsure what to do next, he wasn’t gay or anything like that, but the pink cheeked boy in front of him, looking at his blue eyes with such puppy dog ones… He felt weirdly attracted to him.

He raised his hand once more, and Andrew closed his eyes, ready to take another slap, but them, he felt his digits on his cheek, his heart was pounding as hard as he was drumming before. The kiss was soft and even a bit awkward, since both of them didn’t know if it was the right thing to do. Neiman wasn’t sure if he should hold Terrence back or stand still, so he simply closed his eyes, enjoying the attention. When it parted away, Neiman almost panicked. “I am s-sorry, I need to go. I mean really and well I guess we see each other next p-practice right?” He laughed nervously, heavily breathing.

“Let’s go to my apartment. This is no place to have such conversation, or you want the janitor to call you a faggot?” Terrence smirked, parting away from him, and picking his keys from his pockets. “Come, you can take a shower and put this dirty suit to be washed. I don’t live in a fucking charming prince castle as you’ve been wondering, but it is nice enough.” Without questioning, Andrew followed him, leaving the theater and going to the garage, where they got Fletcher’s car.

“Don’t be so nervous. If we end up fucking, I will not hurt you. I am not that heartless” Fletcher rolled his eyes, turning the car as the other looked at him as if he wasn’t believing the words. “Excuse me? Who said I want to fuck you?” Andrew replied with a frown, crossing his arms. “The same little faggot who kissed me and now is sitting beside me in my car. You see, not always words say everything. Body language, signs. A fucking kiss. That does. And you also enjoy being slapped.” He started driving and the boy placed a hand on his face, musing. “I don’t, I just don’t have anything to do if you do it. I can’t fight you back. You are a mentor to me.. And I blindly followed you until this moment. And fuck.. I hope it will be worth It, because I don’t want to go back selling sandwiches and cooking. My dream, my goal is to be here, playing. Music is my life, Fletcher.”

He gave him a side look, still paying attention at the road ahead. “Good you think like that. Finally someone who was worth teaching something.” Fletcher offered a small smile, and eventually they reached his apartment. In fact it wasn’t fancy or anything like that, just a couple of Jazz posters on the wall, some musical instruments, records, his room, then a bathroom right beside it, and a small kitchen.

Fletcher went to his room, grabbing some old shirt and shorts, handling it to the other. “Bathroom’s on the right. Here are some first medic kit there too, so you can do something about your hands. Go.” Andrew nodded in agreement, and entered the place, taking out his dirty clothes to the floor, thinking about what happened before, the drumming and the kiss, and how both felt great. His hands hurt when the hot water touched his fingers, making the boy hiss in pain, but it was worth it. He was now praised, acclaimed, he earned Fletcher’s respect, there was nothing else he could want…

Getting dressed, he wasn’t wearing underwear, but the rest of the clothing –even that they were big to him- was on. The maestro waited on the living room. “Good. Now you are looking better. So there.. Come here.” He glanced to the other, as if he asked him to sit beside him. “Part of me wants to kill you for all you did but.. I also want to say how amused I am, for finally finding an actual good musician nowadays.”

Andrew smiled a bit. “Thank you. I practiced, like you said.”  Terrence nodded in agreement. “Good. Now come.” He pulled him by his wrist as soon as he sat beside him, bringing the other close. “We need to discuss our private matters now. “

“I-i..” He gasped, having his chin held by Fletcher’s other hand, dragging him into another kiss, a little more aggressive this time – the maestro was still upset after all-. Pulling him closer, the older one didn’t wait up much, sliding a hand inside of Andrew’s shirt, clawing and scratching his skin, in fact, hurting him, but the reply was a shy moan, and the bulge that was growing on the drummer’s shorts. “So you are aroused by pain.. What a naughty bastard you are.”

“Shut up.” He replied, pulling away, trying to recompose himself. “We shouldn’t be doing that.” Andrew covered his erection, trying to disguise it with his hands. “Oh my god, Neiman.” Fletcher rolled his eyes.

“Even fucking has a tempo, and you are not in mine.”

Play it like a song, it isn’t just sex, it’s music, it’s rhythm, maybe it wasn’t time to worry anymore.

“Show me your rhythm then.” Andrew looked at him.

“Get on your fucking knees”

And Andrew did as told, as the other quickly opened his pants, lowed his underwear. “You never did it before, but you know how this goes.” He grinned. “Suck me.” “I.. I never—“ Fletcher rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Haven’t you even seen a porn movie before? Holy shit you are worse than I thought.”  Andrew sighed. “Just.. I am just nervous, alright?” The drummer ruffed, taking a deep breath, grabbing Terrence’s dick with his right hand, stroking it softly, not sure if he was doing it right or not, as the other looked at him with no expression. “Go on, do it.” Fletcher offered a subtle smile, as the other opened up his lips, closed his eyes, taking his tongue out and giving him a slow lick, from the base to the head, still getting used to the salty taste of his skin.

A shiver went down the maestro’s spine, and he let out a low moan, as the younger worked out on him, a little bit shy yet, but growing shameless as his mouth went up and down on his cock.

“You should masturbate while you suck me.” Fletcher brought a hand to Andrew’s hair, cuddling it softly. “It will make you a bit more at ease..” He suggested, and the drummer brought his left hand inside of his own clothing, at first moving his fingers up and down slowly, and increasing as the pace of his mouth went faster too.

Terrence moaned a bit louder, holding on his hair and pulling his hair down, following the rhythm of Andrew’s lips and tongue, raising his hips to fuck his mouth. “For the first time.. You are pretty good huh?” The older dragged his head back, closing his eyes in a bliss, as shyly Neiman managed to low his clothing to his kneeling knees, letting out a relieved moan that vibrated on the other’s cock. It felt so weirdly great, having Fletcher’s attention like that, as a player and as a person. It felt perfect.

“Stop.” He made his usual sign to stop. “I don’t want you to come yet. Not like this.” Andrew moaned in slightly. “Hm.. What do you want me to do?” He asked, stripping himself from Fletcher’s clothes entirely.

“I want to fuck you. But since it is your first time, I will let you ride me.” The idea made the drummer a bit blushed, but he simply nodded. “Alright.. How do we do this?”

“Well… wait up..” Fletcher went to his room, grabbing a condom and coming back. “You finger yourself until you feel that little asshole of yours loosen enough and I roll that on my cock and then you sit on my lap and do it. Simple as that.” He sat back down, looking at Andrew. “Don’t look at me with this stupid puppy face of yours. Lick your fingers. Do it.”

“Alright.” He did as asked, lowing his head when doing it, wetting his fingers good enough until he felt that he was ready – and how he felt awkward -. Andrew slid his index finger inside of his entrance, feeling discomfort and pain at first  -of course, it was his first time doing it -, looking down as he could hear Fletcher’s moans, as he kept touching himself, watching the boy. “Yes, carry on.. Look at me.” He rose his chin with his free hand. “I want to see your face. Yes. This same fucking face that talked back to me, that was brave enough to sit on that fucking drum and finally make me proud of you.” Andrew loved to hear how the maestro felt about him like that, it made his blood pump on his veins and he started to fuck himself a bit faster, still feeling some pain, but letting himself relax, spreading his kneeling legs as he did it, breathing with his lips half opened, twitching up as he felt his own finger brush against his prostate, making the young drummer moan louder. “Holy shit.. What’s this..” He hissed in pleasure, not taking much to add another digit. Terrence snorted, completely amused to see the boy like that. “Just a bit more, Andrew.”

“No. Please. I need it now.”

“What do you want? Say to me”

“I need you to fuck me.” Andrew said, mumbling.

“Louder.”

“I need you to fuck me.” He said louder, yet still shy.

A harsh slap came.

“Louder.”

This time, he wasn’t upset. Oh no, he was loving it.

“I need you to fuck me. Now.” Andrew finally said it loud enough, and Fletcher rolled the condom down his length, patting his thighs.

“Ride me.”

Neiman got up, crawling to his lap, taking deep breaths as he kept his dark eyes fixed on Terrence’s blue ones, finally lowing his hips, getting penetrated by the other, hissing in stinging pain, digging his fingers on the other’s shoulder. “Fuck… Oh.. Fuck..” He said in a  whisper, breathing heavily when he sat himself completely on the other’s cock. “Don’t be an ass now, Fletcher.. It still hurts a bit..”

Terrence chuckled lightly. “I am not that evil..” He rested his head on the sofa, placing both hands on Neiman’s waist. “God how tight you are..” Fletcher  smirked at him. “Move when you feel better.. I won’t push you.”

Neiman looked at him and smiled a bit, slowly moving up and down, until he could ignore that pain completely, keeping his left hand on Fletcher’s body and the other working on his own cock, as his body started to get used to the sensation, moving eventually faster.

“Yes, kid, go, oh fuck go faster.” Andrew moaned louder, moving as well as he could, hardly holding himself anymore, and almost coming on Fletcher’s lap. “Fuck Fletcher… I fucking need thisss. .” Neiman gasped, trying to breath, as he was pulled down in every time he went up, their hips colliding in a lusty song.

Terrence finally leaned against him, pulling Neiman’s hair to pull his head closed, taking his lips in their second kiss, as he pressed his fingers on the other’s flair skin, leaving red bruises on his waist. “God.. Fuck.. Don’t stop, Neiman.. Remember the tempo” Fletcher smirked against the drummer’s lips, as he nodded and went as fast as his body could let him –since was already tired from before-.

“Oh.. Fuck..” Neiman rolled his eyes. “I am going to cum.. Fuck.. “ And his face was slapped, hard.

“The tempo, kid..” Fletcher replied, holding his chin hard. “Just a bit more..” Resting his forehead on Neiman’s shoulder, he could almost hear the boy’s heart beating, pulling him down once more on his lap, and keeping him there, and Andrew’s reply was to finally cum on his fingers, walls clenching in as he could hear Fletcher’s last moan, and after that, just came the sound of silence.

“That was so great.” Neiman said, trying to control his irregular breathing, closing his eyes and getting up slowly, sitting beside Fletcher, tired.

The other rolled the used condom away, throwing it in a near thrash bag, starting to put back his clothes again. “You’ll be sleeping on the couch today. Put your goddamn suit to wash right now because I ain’t letting you use my clothes in practice tomorrow. And another thing..” The older one pointed at him.

“You are my Bird now.”


End file.
